


Five Dates Abigail Chase Regrets Going On

by musicforswimming



Category: Arrested Development, Indiana Jones Series, James Bond (Movies), National Treasure (2004), The X-Files
Genre: 5 Things, Dating, F/M, First Dates, Mulder is a terrible date, Multi, Pre-Movie(s), Washington D.C.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-26
Updated: 2006-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:30:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicforswimming/pseuds/musicforswimming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few of Abigail's more idiosyncratic dealbreakers, and how she came by them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Dates Abigail Chase Regrets Going On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redletters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redletters/gifts).



_Diet Coke._  
  
She can already smell drink on his breath. He's not drunk, she doesn't think, but he might be there before long. She's glad she drove.  
  
"Sorry," he says, and she crosses her arms and gives him an almost-glare as he tells some weird friend that he's busy, and no, he can't get them a copy of that; they've only talked a couple of times.  
  
"If you have friends who'd like to see some of our documents," she tells him, making her voice as frosty as possible, "they can come in —   
  
But his phone rings again, and he stares at her like a deer in headlights for a second, and then looks at his phone instead.  
  
"Shit," he says. "I'm sorry, this is my partner; we're working on an important case. Mulder," he's already saying into the phone before she can even tell him it's okay. Which it's really  **not** , but it's not as though she has much of a choice, is it?  
  
Abigail's doubly glad she drove when he excuses himself and runs out of the restaurant, presumably on said 'important case', and yes, she's using airquotes there (though really, if anyone ought to be making excuses to ditch this 'date' — again, airquotes — it should be her). Only after he's gone does she realize that Mulder (she can hardly blame him for hating his first name, and she reminds herself that it oughtn't be used as another reason to hate him when  **he**  wasn't the one who chose it) has stuck her with the bill.  
  
This is why she doesn't date FBI.

 

  
 _Vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred._  
  
James — which he insists on — takes her out dancing. It's lovely, really. She's not nearly as out of practice at tangoing as she thought she was, and she gets to wear that red dress she doesn't get nearly enough excuses to wear.  
  
It's lovely, anyway, until the place gets shot up by international terrorists.  
  
There's a breathless kiss before they leap off the roof, and only the fact that he'd drop her keeps her from hitting him with her heels until he's out cold because she's so angry. That and the fact that both of her shoes have fallen off in the mess of it.  
  
This is why she doesn't date spies, whether they're her government's or another's.  
  
  
  
 _A Cosmopolitan and half a bottle of Riesling._  
  
Michael seems so disturbingly normal when she meets him at Mount Vernon — he's showing his son and niece around, and she finds the orchards relaxing — that she's suspicious at once. On meeting him at the restaurant of the hotel where his family is staying, Abigail realizes she ought to trust her instincts.  
  
Apparently she bears a striking resemblance to a girl Michael's twin sister had a brief — but extremely torrid — affair with in college. Which explains, albeit in a disturbing, rather Freudian way, the obscene comments Michael's older brother makes throughout dinner. They've only just managed to give GOB the slip when the date itself is cut short because he has to rush to the Supreme Court to help his father. That's when his previously-endearing chivalry becomes an annoyance, because of course he won't hear of her taking the Metro back herself.  
  
There's a lot of shouting, quite a bit of alcohol, and she ends up being kissed by three members of the Bluth family, only one of them male, and none of them Michael.  
  
That's why she starts to stay away from men involved in the city industry altogether. There's a reason for the comparison to sausage-making, after all.  
  
  
  
 _Beer, and lots of it._  
  
He's been taught not to argue with a lady — he had a very old-fashioned upbringing, she understands — and so she's doubly pleased with herself when she coaxes him into a debate about the value of Justin's  _Historiarum Philippicarum_  which nearly ends in bloodshed.  
  
Indiana's believing Excalibur — among  **other**  mythic relics — is real is more a quirk than a real black mark against him, particularly with his smile, but it's when she's dragged into finding the damn thing that she has to dump him.  
  
This is why she doesn't date other historians — at least, not other historians who attract misadventures on the level of hers.  
  
  
  
 _Mango lassis._  
  
The best Indian in DC isn't exactly  **in**  DC, it's in Fairfax. But it's worth it, even at rush hour, and Ian was new in town. She thought it would be just the thing for a London boy, remembering the times she'd travelled to the city in the interest of supervising the installation of some on-loan object or other. She's always one of perhaps three non-Indians in the place, so it's authentic, and the spice level has always separated the men from the boys (Bill failed that test, which was strike one against him).  
  
He was curious about what she did, and was happy to pick her up from work and let her navigate him out of town. But his questions seemed entirely organically sprung from the conversation, entirely natural and easy. He wasn't suspiciously curious; certainly, he wasn't curious enough that she's not shocked when she's yanked into the van and spins around to find herself looking at Ian.  
  
The ease has a whole new level to it now, and it's no longer nearly as sexy. She's largely torn between 'infuriating' and 'terrifying', as a matter of fact.  
  
"I  **did**  have a lovely evening," he tells her while they're heading for New York. There's not a trace of sorrow there, only that same ease. "I'd hate you to think it was only about this."  
  
"Screw you," she says calmly, staring out the window, and doesn't acknowledge Riley's demands for an explanation.  
  
"Sadly," he answers, "it doesn't look like it's going to get that far now, does it?"  
  
She can't help laughing at that, in spite of herself.  
  
That she doesn't date guys who've tried to kill her is obviously a given, but it was really stealing the Declaration that set her against him; neither will she date guys who don't take her job seriously.


End file.
